Parenting Insights
“I think I want to try putting myself to bed tonight,” my daughter announced during our morning drive to school.
“What do you mean?” I queried. Since her birth, our evening routine had been quite consistent: change into pajamas, get tucked into bed, sing a special song, switch on the sound machine, turn off the lights, and close the door.
Of course, some things have altered over time. Diapers transitioned to pull-ups, then to underwear, and she now uses the bathroom independently. She no longer needs assistance choosing or putting on her pajamas.
Her gummy smile transformed as she grew teeth, which we initially brushed for her before she began to do it herself.
Yet, several elements of our routine have remained unchanged: pajamas, the special song, the sound machine, lights off, and closing the door.
“I really think I want to do it by myself,” she reiterated. “I don’t think I need Daddy to sing to me anymore.”
A lump formed in my throat at that moment. She was referring to the cherished song that her father, Mark, sings to her each night. Each of us had our own unique song, both equally meaningful to her. Mark’s was a melody his mother sang to him as a child, steeped in tradition and love. Mine was an improvised lullaby I created as a new mother, trying to calm my crying infant the day she was born. That melody soothed her then, and it has continued to do so.
“I’m six now,” she proclaimed. “I’m a big kid, so I can do it myself.”
That lump shifted to my stomach, heavy as a stone, but it allowed me to respond without choking on my emotions. “Okay, sweetheart,” I managed to say.
How is this happening? How can she be ready to put herself to sleep while still referring to her special song as a verb? Tears welled in my eyes, and I felt an overwhelming urge to plead with her, “Just one more time. Let us sing to you one more time.”
It was reminiscent of those moments when a relationship ends or when someone we love passes away, and we wish we had recognized those last hugs and words as the final ones—so we could truly appreciate them. I find myself wishing I had known that those moments were our last.
But I know that putting my feelings above her needs would be unfair. I would be stunting her growth at a time when she’s ready to stand on her own. Wobbly and uncertain, yet prepared.
“I think I want to try,” she had said.
And I realize now that I have been anticipating this moment. I even believed I wanted it—the independence, the growth, the changes. I said it out loud, hoping it would come soon, thinking it would simplify our evening routine. And perhaps it will—one less task to manage during those chaotic, messy end-of-day moments.
Yet, it feels too soon. My mind may be ready, but my heart is not. Change is happening too quickly, and I’m struggling to keep pace.
Her top tooth is loose, and that charming smile I’ve cherished for years is on the verge of transformation. Recently, she experienced her first emotional hurt from a friend’s innocent remark—something that made her cry in front of him and lash out in embarrassment for showing vulnerability. I wasn’t prepared for how much her pain would affect me. These are indeed growing pains.
And now, with loose teeth and a tender heart, I feel an instinct to hold her tighter, precisely when she’s ready to loosen our embrace.
I can feel that something significant is coming to a close. She is communicating that to me in her own way.
Perhaps one day she’ll need those special songs again. Maybe she will hum them softly as she settles in for sleep. Lights off. Close the door.
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Summary:
In this reflective piece, Lisa Hartman shares a poignant moment in her daughter’s development, revealing the bittersweet nature of parenting as children grow and seek independence. As her daughter expresses a desire to put herself to bed, Lisa grapples with the emotional implications of this transition, recognizing the inevitability of change while also yearning for the comfort of their shared bedtime rituals.
Keyphrase: Parenting and Independence
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